


Hearing Everything

by nanosorcerer



Series: Ironstrange/Supreme Family One Shots [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Doctor Dad, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Except Peter's head, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Infinity War AU, Iron Dad, IronStrange, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter dealing with sensory overload, Post Infinity War, Sensory Overload, Stephen learns how to dad, Supreme Family, Tony is an overprotective mom, You can't change my mind, growing family bond, hugs and tea fixes everything, infinity war fix-it, spider son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanosorcerer/pseuds/nanosorcerer
Summary: Being a mutant and all, Peter Parker experiences the stresses of high school a little differently than most teens. For one, sensory overload is very common when your senses are constantly dialled to 11. And when Iron Dad is unavailable, who better to try his hand at comforting dad duties than a stern but-actually-a-big-softie sorcerer?





	Hearing Everything

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing sensory stuff, so this was a lot of fun.
> 
> So, I kind of have a few favourite AUs in the MCU, one of them being that everything is fine at the end of Infinity War, i.e. they win the battle, kills Thanos, etc. Tony and Stephen are freaking soft and snarky husbands and Peter is their spider son. Pure Supreme family.

Peter’s head pounded in time with his foot steps up the front stairs to the Sanctum Sanctorum. He yanked the door open, stumbling into the darkness of the front hall, his eyes taking a second to adjust. The dimly light Sanctum was a welcome relief from the bright sunshine outside, though. Peter’s enhanced senses often took a beating in the chaotic, noisy, bright, droning atmosphere of high school, his chest clenching with dread as he reminded himself that it was only Tuesday. 

The day started off poorly; a chemistry lab filled with harsh chemicals and smells which set his stomach on edge for the rest of the morning. Usually fiddling with his own experiments, Peter buried his nose in his textbook, trying to redirect his focus from his unsteady stomach to the teacher’s almost juvenile explanation of reaction states Peter already knew by heart. History class wasn’t much better, two boys got into a fight in the back row, the larger guy’s girlfriend screeching at him to let the other kid out of a headlock. Her shrill tone made Peter want to retreat into his own head, skin crawling as he covered his ears like a little kid. His stomach lurched dangerously when the quarrelling boys stumbled into his desk, shoving it across the aisle, almost sending Peter’s breakfast with it. After the boys were dealt with, and class finished, Peter could feel a dangerously tight migraine setting in, the ringing in his head becoming even higher-pitched when ever he looked up from the floor. The worst past was that Ned was sick at home, so he didn’t even have his comfort or distraction, which usually allowed Peter to refocus. They’d been texting in between Peter’s classes, but he didn’t want tot keep his friend from getting rest, so told Ned he was feeling better. 

Too nauseous to tackle his tuna sandwich, the teen spent lunch sitting on a closed toilet lid, head in his hands, feeling like a vice was squeezing his skull. His skin tingled, sensing someone coming into the washroom, and the slamming of the stall door made his entire body lurch involuntarily, head screaming, heart pounding as he felt an anxiety attack settle in. He left the washroom in a hurry, planning to spend the rest of lunch in the library, but the bell rang just as he was about to step into the sanctuary of near silence. Groaning, which made his head hurt, he turned and headed for English, head spinning as spots danced across his vision. Peter stooped at a water fountain, figuring he was dehydrated, but nearly blacked out as he leaned over, smacking his head on the corner of the metal basin. Holding back tears, he stumbled back into the boy’s washroom, nausea swimming in the back of his throat, hands and limbs shaking as his heart pounded. He knew crying would make his head hurt more, so he swallowed the pain and focused on keeping his stomach’s contents in their place. Already ten minutes late, he stumbled into English without even a muttered apology and sat for the remainder of the day in misery. 

By the time final bell rang at 2:45, Peter’s nausea had worn off, though his anxiety had settled in fully. Every noise was amplified by ten as he shuffled to his locker, squeaking of shoes, and shrieks of girls, guys yelling, lockers slamming, an announcement over the speakers. Eyes wide in panic, Peter tried to steady his breathing, but felt himself hyperventilating as he pushed his way out the front doors, trying to walk to the bus stop as slowly as his rapidly beating heart would allow. The bus ride was fairly quiet, save for the whir of the engine which felt like it was trapped in his head, blood pounding in his ears, sweat trickling down his back as he tried to make his breathing appear normal. The rolling, bumpy motion of the bus was also bringing back the earlier discomfort in his stomach, and his heart fluttered in relief when he saw his stop coming up.

Now, in the cool comfort of the Sanctum, he walked up the huge staircase to get to the kitchen upstairs. He didn’t have the strength to call out to see who was home as he usually did, dropping his backpack to the ground as he stumbled to the fridge. He felt hot, on the verge of vomiting as he grabbed a bottle of ginger ale from the fridge, one of the few items of junk food which Stephen allowed him to have at the Sanctum on the regular. With a defiant hiss, the bottle erupted as he twisted the cap off and only then did Peter remember shaking it last night as a joke to get Tony. Ginger ale drenching the front of his hoodie, Peter looked down at himself in nauseous despair, peeling the wet clothing off. He let frustrated tears prickle his eyes, searching for a cloth, half blind, to wipe up the mess the explosion made on the floor. He dropped to the floor all too quickly, head ringing, ears pounding as he tried to mop up the puddle of ginger ale. His enhanced hearing picked up a steady, cat-like tread approaching him from behind, his cheeks burning in embarrassment as he recognized Stephen entering the kitchen. The familiar, deep voice spoke, obviously distracted, reading while he walked, no doubt. 

“Tony just called. He told me to let you know he’s not going to be home till late tonight. We’re going to have to figure something out for dinner. I was thinking Thai unless…”, Stephen trailed off as the teen staggered to his feet, turning limply on Stephen at his words, eyes red and bleary. The sorcerer was taken aback for a moment before his head tilted in sympathy. Hearing that his dad was stuck in meetings was the last thing the teen needed to hear right now. 

“I’m sorry”, Peter mumbled numbly, and gestured at the ginger ale on the floor. Stephen shook his head, something in his chest ached seeing the teen feel the need to apologize for something so small when he obviously felt terrible. 

Stephen took a step forward, silently extending one trembling hand to take the dripping cloth from the boy, the other hand reaching for his shoulder. Peter felt the unsteady grasp pull him towards the sorcerer and, head whirling, he succumbed to the touch. He was too numb to be shocked as Stephen gingerly gathered the trembling boy in his arms. Legs shaking, Peter leaned against the solid frame of the sorcerer, wrapping slim arms around his belted waist, noticing a softly shaking hand coming up to cup the back of his head. It was gentle, soothing, as it clumsily but comfortingly played with his hair. Already fighting to swallow tears back, the sorcerer’s sturdy arms around Peter triggered a hiccupy sob from his chest, tears burning his eyes. Slightly embarrassed, but mostly too tired to care, Peter tried to block out the pounding in his head, the nausea, burying his tear-stained face in Stephen’s chest. Overwhelmed with his own physical and mental discomfort, Peter couldn’t help but let a few heavy, wet sobs escape before his crying dissolved to tired whimpers lost in the sorcerer’s thick robes. They rocked back and forth gently, as Levi blocked out the light for Peter as the cloak wrapped around them both. Stephen rubbed slow, soothing circles on the boy’s back as he’d seen Tony do for him when he had anxiety attacks or sensory overload. He dropped his chin to gently rest on Peter’s soft hair, completing the cocoon of comfort for him, hesitant as he didn’t want to overstep their recently formed comfortable relationship with each other. His own heart slowed as the effects of the outside stimulants decreased, and Peter pressed his cheek to the Sorcerer Supreme’s chest, listening to his steady, resounding heartbeat, his enhanced hearing making it louder and even more soothing. His breathing slowed, he felt the deep vibration of the man’s voice in his own chest as Stephen spoke quietly.

“Okay now?”, he asked in a considerate mumbled voice, repressing his usually commanding baritone. Peter looked up at him and grimaced slightly to indicate that this was helping, but he still felt terrible. Stephen nodded, gently guiding Peter’s head to rest back on his chest, letting him know it was okay to do so with out saying anything else. Levi resumed the darkened hug over Peter’s head as the two continued to sway slightly, a movement which surprisingly helped with Peter’s nausea, though more so to slow his furiously beating heart. Stephen felt something in his chest stir, an internally warm feeling as Peter continued to hold on to him, tears dampening the sorcerer’s robes, but he didn’t care. He lost track of time as they stood there for quite a while, enveloped in the warmth of the comfort they found in each other. Stephen heard a muffled noise from within his cloak and felt Peter’s grip on him loosen.

“What’d you say?”, he asked, unable to keep the warm amusement out of his tone as Levi lifted up, revealing a red-eyed, bedraggled-looking Peter.

“I said, ‘My leg’s falling asleep’”, Peter croaked, throat raw from crying, though the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile.

“Okay, we’ll get you somewhere more comfortable.” The sorcerer’s voice was still hushed, the pleasant, deep vibration against Peter’s chest as he cupped a large, scarred hand to the back of the boy’s head again. He held it there for a few more seconds as they held knowing eye contact, comforting with it’s warmth and weight before he pulled back. Peter had to suppress a shiver as he was deprived of his source of warmth, but Levi quickly left Stephen’s shoulders to cling to Peter’s, their collar gently rearranging the teen’s curls nonsensically as he shuffled to the tv room couch. The tv had been brought in at Tony’s request of course, the sorcerer had never really been one for screens. Peter plopped on the couch, Levi still wrapped around him tightly, curling up on his side as the edges of anxiety began to tug at his nerves again. Soft foot falls, like a cat on its padded toes, approached the couch and the cushions dipped slightly as the sorcerer carefully sat by Peter’s head.

“So.” Stephen cleared his throat slightly, keeping his voice hushed for Peter’s sake. “Regular sensory overload or…anything else going on?” Peter’s heart ached at how hard the sorcerer was trying to be a good Tony substitute. He shook his head before realizing that was a poor decision and had to swallow hard to convince himself that he wasn’t going to throw up.

“Just…people are so loud sometimes and…I can usually handle it, but Ned wasn’t there and I was just feeling really bad-.” Stephen cut him off with a furrowed brow.

“How long were you feeling like that?”

“Pretty much since this morning.”

The sorcerer’s eyebrows rose towards his hairline. “You were feeling that bad and you just stuck it out all day?” Peter dropped his gaze and he felt a flush growing on his cheeks for some unknown reason.

“Yeah, I mean. You said you were going to meditate today and I didn’t know for how long, so I…”, he trailed off, as Stephen’s brow lifted again, this time in sympathy. “And I knew Dad had a lot of meetings today. I didn’t want to bother him. I was fine”, he said, though they both knew what a severe lie that was.

“Peter, your vitals were through the roof. I used a scanning spell when we were-“, the sorcerer’s eyes drifted aside. “A heart rate like that would have sent a normal person into cardiac arrest.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a normal person”, the teen countered, a bitter edge to his voice. All rigidity left Stephen’s posture as he gave Peter a look, sea-green eyes filled with…not pity, it was more like…guilt?

“Peter. You should have called me. I would have dropped anyth-.” The sorcerer caught himself. “You- your health is much more important than my meditation.” The usually articulate man was stumbling all over himself, trying not to spill how much he already cared about the boy who was still becoming comfortable with him. “Please. Call me next time.” There was something almost pleading in his voice.

Brown eyes met green in understanding as the boy nodded slowly. “Okay. I will. Thanks.” The sorcerer nodded in satisfaction, scanned the room for a second before turning back to Peter.

“Star Wars?” The teen nodded with a small smile, pleased that the sorcerer knew his comfort movie. Stephen flicked his finger deftly and the movie started playing, still in the DVD player from last night, before standing to tend to the whistling kettle Peter hadn’t noticed him turn on. The sorcerer returned a few minutes later with two large, steaming mugs, handing one to Peter. He accepted the mug from those gentle, scarred hands that had quelled his worries so effectively moments ago, and seemed capable of calming all peril in the world if not for their incessant trembling.

“Chamomile tea?”, Peter asked, sniffing it before looking up to Stephen for confirmation. The man nodded, settling in the leather chair beside the couch, which creaked in protest.

“With a bit of honey. It should help your stomach.”

“Thanks.” Stephen hummed in response, already engrossed in a ridiculously old and thick book. Peter smiled at this and focused on his movie. He finished his tea soon after, basking in the warmth it provided his body, the sweet smoothness of the honey leaving him drowsy and happy. Levi lifted themself from around Peter, taking his cup to the kitchen sink, dimming the lights, and grabbing another blanket before dropping it and themselves on top of the teen again. Peter curled up on his side, feeling safe and content with Levi’s weight, watching the movie under heavy lids, his anxiety fading away completely as he noticed Stephen glancing up at him every few minutes. Maybe a much needed nap was possible with the Sorcerer Supreme on guard.

*****

Stephen jolted out of the reading trance a particularly interesting passage had put him in, hearing the familiar sound of keys jingling at the tops of the steps, accompanied by frustrated huffing. The sorcerer glanced at the clock on the wall. 9:13 p.m. He lifted a brow slightly as he rose to greet Tony before he accidentally woke Peter. He met Tony as the shorter man came storming into the kitchen, obviously fired up to rant about his day when he saw Stephen holding a finger to his lips, shushing him. The billionaire gave him an incredulous look before catching sight of the lump of blankets on the couch. Sending Stephen an alarmed look, the other man continued his storming, but more quietly as he went to stand in front of the couch, body tense with worry. Peter was sleeping, no evident physical harm distressing him as he snored softly, cheeks flushed and curls all over as Levi continued to guard him.

Stephen came up behind, putting a placating hand on Tony’s shoulder as his husband gestured at the teen crashed on the couch. “What’s up with him? Is he sick?”, he whispered hoarsely, turning on the taller man, big, brown eyes getting bigger in concern. Stephen shook his head.

“Rough day at school”, he whispered back, voice low and soothing. “Sensory overload. I took care of him, though. He’s alright now, Tony.” The billionaire looked crushed, distraught, and it made Stephen’s chest twinge in guilt.

“Why wouldn’t he call me? He always calls me, Steph.”

“He knew you had meetings all day. He didn’t want to bother you.”

Tony looked like a trapped animal in a cage, but Stephen’s touch kept him from pacing. “F-fuck. What did he-Did he call you, then?” Stephen shook his head again, remorse in his expression.

“No. I told him that he should have. I let him know that he can when he needs to…or when he wants to.” Something in Stephen’s tone pulled Tony out of his frantic dad worry, putting a hand to the sorcerer’s forearm.

“Babe. He likes you, it’s just-he’s afraid of losing someone else, so he…makes it hard for himself to get attached. He wants to be close with you.” He gestured softly at the sleeping boy. “I mean, look at him. You obviously got him calmed down.” Stephen shrugged at his words, wanting to believe them, but refusing to let himself. Tony noticed the stubborn set of his shoulders and gently guided the sorcerer to look at him with a finger under his chin.  
“Look at me. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You did amazing with him today. Sometimes it takes me hours of laying with him to get him calmed down, okay? Good job, Dad.” His words brought a small, bashful smile to the other man’s face, as he hooked his thumbs in a few of Stephen’s belts, pulling the taller man closer. Tony tilted his head to look up at his husband, whispering his words on the other man’s soft bottom lip. “Thank you for taking care of my baby boy.”

“Of course”, Stephen muttered, kissing the tip of Tony’s nose with a small smile. “Why don’t you come and tell me about your day? Go to the bedroom so we don’t wake up spider baby?”

Tony kissed his chin softly. “Sounds good.” He took one of Stephen’s scarred hands firmly in his own, never scared that he would hurt him, and Stephen loved the feeling of his strong grip. 

“Levi, we’ll be in our room. Come get us if Peter wakes up.” The cloak gave him a salute with one side of their collar, a small movement in the dimly lit room. Tony gave Stephen an appreciative kiss on the cheek as Levi settled snugly on the teen again. The two men quietly left the room, the light from their bedroom filtering onto the couch before they clicked the door closed, though the hushed dives and pitches of Tony’s voice could be heard dimly through the wall. 

The cloak readjusted as Peter shifted, hugging a pillow to his chest with a sleepy smile. He opened his eyes to look at the spot his dads had been standing seconds ago, not as quiet as they thought they were, and perhaps forgetting about his enhanced hearing.


End file.
